


The Badger Game

by Sed



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe role reversal, Neal is an FBI agent and Peter is the con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Badger Game

“So far, the bureau has been able to confirm their involvement in eight individual cases,” Hughes began. He didn’t need to name the suspects specifically; everyone knew who he was talking about. The pair had caused more than a few headaches in the past year, and managed to evade authorities from county to federal level all around the country.  
  
He set a manila folder on the edge of the table and gestured for Neal to pass it around. Each agent took turns briefly thumbing through the pictures and reports inside.  
  
“Three in Texas, one in Florida, two in Maine, and another two here. We’ve been unable to concretely tie them to similar cases in Maryland and Colorado, but their involvement in those incidents is highly suspected. They’ve also dipped into grand theft and insurance fraud, although we think it’s likely they’re still running the blackmail setup here in New York. The chances of getting their hands on someone with the means to pay off are pretty good in this setting.” He finished as Diana slid the folder back up to the head of the table.  
  
“Do we know their target?” she asked.  
  
Hughes shook his head. “Our sources only confirmed they’re in the city. We don’t even know if they’re planning another job. Their previous work here suggests they frequent certain locations, where a mark is selected and subsequently taken in. It only narrows our focus, though, the margin of error is enormous. The additional hang-up is that the nature of this particular scam makes it harder to catch them in the act; we don’t usually find out about these things until the deed is done, and only when the victims admit they were duped. Needless to say, not many people are willing to come forward about this sort of thing.”  
  
Neal leaned back, tapping the table pensively. “It sounds like our best chance to catch them in the act is a sting. We’ll probably have to use agents. Shame is a big advantage for these guys, and we won’t find a lot of established men or women willing to risk their reputations, even if the blackmail is fake.”  
  
“I agree, and I think we should double up on the bait,” Hughes added.  
  
Diana looked up. “Double up? Is it necessary?”  
  
“These two have been known to target men and women, and they’re very thorough,” he paused and looked around the table, nodding slowly. “Caffrey, Barrigan, you two are going undercover. You’ll each have a team to back you up, but I want both of you to be prepared to switch if the situation calls for it. This is going to require a lot of flexibility. We need to catch them both; we won’t get them for the Maryland and Colorado jobs unless we can get one to flip on the other.”  
  
Neal raised his hand. “Question! What exactly do you mean by thorough?”  
  
Hughes paused. He seemed to be weighing his response carefully. “Let’s just say they’ve got all their bases covered. I’ll let you infer what you will from that.”  
  
He dismissed the meeting, leaving the agents to discuss the details of the operation, and how they would coordinate two teams simultaneously. It seemed straightforward enough, but realistically the entire thing hinged on guesswork, and that didn’t sit well with anyone. In the end they decided Neal would play the part of a wealthy businessman, waiting for a date in a classy restaurant rumored to have been among those frequented by their subjects. It was Diana’s idea to position her part of the sting in a night club. Neal was sure she’d gotten the better end of the deal.

  
  
  
An hour later found Neal in his office, fidgeting with his cuffs and tie, repeatedly adjusting them and posing himself in front of a mirror. He looked up when someone tapped on the glass. It was Diana, carrying a copy of the restaurant layout.  
  
“Nice suit, didn’t they have a cut for this decade?” She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, smiling. “Unless Rat Pack is in this season. I know those things cycle back around every fifty years or so.”  
  
“Don’t ruin my confidence, I need to be in top form tonight.”

Diana rolled her eyes and stepped through the doorway enough to toss the folder on Neal’s desk. “I think you need a sense of humility to be blackmailed, Caffrey.” She turned back to the stairs. “Don’t talk to strangers.”  
  
“Only if they offer to take me somewhere secluded and photograph me in a compromising position,” he called as she walked away.  
  


  
  
“ _Checking your mic, Caffrey, can you hear me?_ ” Jones’ voice buzzed through the tiny earbud in his left ear.  
  
“Yes,” Neal whispered, then hastily covered it up as the waiter approached, “I’d like some more water, please.” He let his eyes slide over one of the spotters positioned at a table across the room. There were at least three agents that he could see, probably one or two in the kitchen, and definitely one outside feeding video of customers to Jones and the other agents in the van.  
  
Jones responded, “ _We can hear you clearly as well, you’re all set._ ”  
  
“May I bring you the menu as well, sir?” the waiter asked, smiling obligingly. Neal was sure that upbeat attitude wouldn’t last after the second or third hour, if it came to that. The mark to throw in the towel was four hours. He suddenly wished he hadn’t ordered anything to drink at all.  
  
“That’s enough for now, thank you.”  
  
It was easy to avoid checking his watch at first, but as the minutes dropped away Neal found himself growing antsy, concerned with the ridiculously wide net they were casting. From the outside it probably looked like he was losing patience with his imaginary date, but the other agents were picking up on his mood.  
  
Jones’ voice filled his ear again. “ _Keep your cool, Neal. It’s only been an hour._ ”  
  
“An hour,” he grumbled.  
  
“Been waiting long?” A much smoother voice suddenly filled his ear. Neal jerked his head around to face the source. Sure enough, it was one half of the team they were hoping to snare.  
  
Activity in the van outside suddenly whipped into a frenzy. Neal could only hear part of it through the earbud. “ _How the hell did he get past our man at the door? Who saw him come in?_ ” He imagined Jones looking from screen to screen for confirmation of a sighting, but Neal knew none of the agents in the restaurant had seen the man enter; they were all still engaged in playing their own parts.  
  
Neal composed himself with practiced swiftness. “An hour, actually. I guess romance really is dead.” In the back of his mind he wondered why the man had approached him, and wondered if his partner was close by. He knew Jones and the other agents would be searching every inch of the restaurant for her, but if they missed one, it was just as likely they would miss the other. Avoiding detection was part of the game, after all.  
  
The subject stepped around to the other side of the table, finally giving Neal a chance to look him over. He was wearing a solid black suit; the flawless cut flattered his shape, and suggested custom tailoring. A scarlet tie was the only color breaking the dark lines that were almost invisible otherwise. It was striking, and both men seemed more than aware of the impression it made as he leaned down to make their conversation more intimate. Neal snapped his attention back to the face hovering scandalously close to his own.  
  
“My name is Peter Burke, and I can’t imagine sitting by myself tonight, leaving you here all alone. May I?” He turned his head and gestured to the open seat. Somehow he made his intrusion sound generous.  
  
“Yes, of course, please,” Neal stammered, suddenly feeling like he had no idea what to do. He waved for the waiter with one hand while shaking Burke’s with the other. “I’d love to have you.” That sounded much more suggestive than he intended. Inwardly he cringed. “Would you like a drink?”  
  
“ _Careful, Caffrey,_ ” Jones said. Neal wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard laughter in the background as well.  
  
Great, his discomfort was apparently entertainment.  
  
Burke didn’t seem to notice his stumble, at least. “I can only think of a single more pleasurable way to spend the evening.”  
  
Well, that wasn’t exactly subtle.  
  
Thankfully Neal was rescued from his humiliation by the overeager waiter, who perked up when he realized there was a second guest at the table. “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked, practically bouncing on his heels.  
  
Burke picked up the wine list that had been left on the table at some earlier point in the evening and gave it a quick glance. “The _Château Margaux_ , please.”  
  
Neal gestured to his own glass. “I’ll have another water.”  
  
“My friend…” Burke paused, inviting Neal to fill in the blank.  
  
“Nick.”  
  
“My friend Nick will be having the _Margaux_ as well.” He shook his head at Neal’s jump to object. “No, I insist. My treat. So, Nick, apart from dinner, what brings you out into the city tonight?”  
  
It made about as much sense to tell the truth as it did to lie. “Work. You?”  
  
“The same,” Burke replied. “I’m in town for some business, but tonight my partner is handling things solo. I’m free for the whole evening.”  
  
Wow, he worked fast. Hughes hadn’t been wrong when he said these two were good. Neal wondered if the other agents had managed to locate the partner yet. Although from what Burke was saying, it didn’t sound like the woman was nearby. She was probably waiting at a predetermined location, where Burke would lead his mark to be caught in some compromising position and blackmailed for everything they had to spare.  
  
Hughes said they had to be caught together. That meant this operation wouldn’t end in the restaurant. Neal squared his shoulders and put on his most charming smile. “The _whole_ evening?”  
  


  
  
They sat for some time, slowly sipping their drinks, discussing everything from modern art to privately owned antiquities. It was pointless banter, and Neal did his best to seem interested until Burke suggested they go for a walk. There wasn’t much he could do to prevent it; the man had a way of making things happen without allowing Neal room to argue. Burke slipped the waiter a fifty and some excuse about wanting to speak to the chef. It seemed ridiculous after two glasses of wine and an hour of water refills, but he made it seem like the most natural thing to do.  
  
Despite the late hour, the kitchen was still bustling, making it impossible to hear anything Jones might be saying to cover the change of plans. Someone called out an order from one end of the long room, and three different chefs replied in near unison. Another was singing the chorus of some one-hit-wonder while he chopped vegetables on a countertop cutting board. Frying pans hissed, ovens slammed shut, and the sounds of activity drowned out anything but the most sincere attempts at communication. Neal couldn’t spot any familiar faces in the sea of nonstop movement, either.  
  
Then they were past the chaos and exiting through a large metal door. It slammed shut, leaving the two men in silence.  
  
“Let’s walk for a bit, shall we?” Burke asked in the same tone that said he wasn’t actually asking. He set off at a pace that left Neal doing double time to catch up as he scanned the alley for his backup. To his dismay there were no conveniently parked vans or suspicious loiterers meandering about. He cleared his throat to see if Jones would say something, but no reply came. Neal looked down to check the microphone pin on his lapel and found it was gone.  
  
“I dropped something,” he said, glancing about to see if it had fallen somewhere nearby. “My pin, I lost my pin.”  
  
Burke replied without bothering to turn around. “I didn’t see you wearing a pin.”  
  
That was no good. At least they would still be able to track him, though. He reached for his left wrist; there was a small tracking chip in the fake Rolex— “Where is my watch?”  
  
“I didn’t know you had one.”  
  
Neal took a deep breath to steady himself. This wasn’t a dangerous situation. He wasn’t being kidnapped. He simply had to excuse himself from the other man’s company and get back to the team. The operation would be a wash, but he was risking more by going in without the others supporting him. He stopped walking and spread his hands out wide in a placating gesture. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t think about the time. I really should get going.”  
  
He should have known better than to think someone like Peter Burke would back down gracefully.  
  
“What would you have said to your date If she—or he—had shown up instead?” Burke turned and graced Neal with a smile that told the agent he was in for a serious battle of wits if he wanted out of this any time soon.  
  
“I… guess you have a point,” Neal muttered. “Well, lead the way.”  
  
“Gladly.”  
  


It was difficult to be sure without a watch, but Neal estimated they had walked for close to twenty minutes before Burke stopped in front of a split-level brownstone. A nearby streetlight was out, leaving that part of the street in total darkness. As his host graciously held the door for him, Neal couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do if the other agents didn’t show up.

  
  
  
“How did we lose Caffrey?” Diana was standing outside the noisy club she had been sitting in for the last two hours, a finger in one ear, speaking into what appeared to be an enamel flower pin on the strap of her dress.  
  
“ _Peter Burke showed up, ordered Neal a drink. We lost audio a few minutes later._ ”  
  
“Okay, but what happened to the GPS?”  
  
Jones didn’t reply immediately. “ _It… must have been left in the restaurant. He never moved, we pulled the agent off the kitchen to cover a fire exit near their table. It made sense at the time, but Burke must have taken him out through the blind spot._ ”  
  
She frowned. Nothing in the files suggested either of the suspects were inclined toward violence, but it was never in the plan to leave an agent alone with them, not without backup nearby. “Neal wouldn’t have taken it off,” she said.  
  
“ _One of the spotters just found the watch in a wine bucket, and_ —”  
  
The channel abruptly went silent. “What’s wrong?” Diana asked.  
  
“ _Something just happened._ ”  
  
“Did you find Caffrey?” If they could locate him, make sure he was safe and get him the proper backup, maybe they could still salvage the operation. Caffrey wouldn’t out himself as FBI until it was absolutely necessary.  
  
“ _Not Caffrey. It’s something else._ ”

  
  
  
“You have a lovely home,” Neal said. He was doing his best to make conversation while staying at least ten to fifteen feet away from Burke. It was not easy. The man was eyeing him like a shark, with a sly smile that said he had intentions not far removed from one. He had taken his jacket off and loosened his red tie. It made Neal feel like he should button his own jacket and make sure his tie was on tight. Not that he was afraid to be alone with another man—just a suspect who was so close to illegally detaining him.  
  
Burke’s back was to the door. He turned slightly and clicked the lock into place.  
  
And there would be the detaining part.  
  
“Listen, Mr. Burke—”  
  
“Peter.”  
  
“Peter… I appreciate the drink, and the very energetic walk here, but I should probably go.”  
  
As Neal spoke, Burke maneuvered himself closer. By the word _go_ he was looming too close for Neal slip past without physically pushing him out of the way. He placed his forearms against the wall to either side of Neal’s head, and slowly leaned forward until Neal had no choice but to flatten himself to avoid complete contact.  
  
“You sound nervous,” Peter purred into his ear. His words were carried on a warm exhalation that left Neal struggling to keep his knees from buckling. There was nowhere else to go as the other man gently settled his body against Neal’s, letting his hands slide from the wall to grasp the agent’s slender shoulders. A light nibble at his ear sent Neal reeling. He grasped Peter’s shirt with one hand, neither pulling the other man closer nor pushing him away. Distantly he wondered if the other agents were on their way. They would intervene at the right moment. Right?  
  
Peter took one of his hands away from Neal’s shoulder, and very, very slowly made his way down, while his mouth worked at the sensitive skin of Neal’s neck. The wandering hand found its destination and Neal couldn’t help but groan at the shock of pleasure that ricocheted through his body. “Peter,” he whispered, “I can’t do this.”  
  
There was a light nip at his jaw, and then Peter kissed him so urgently it nearly threw them both off balance. Neal wrapped his arms around the other man’s torso, sliding over the crisp fabric as his fingers grasped for purchase. He meant to pull him away. Instead, curiously, he ended up pulling Peter’s shirt out of where it was neatly tucked into his pants. His hands met bare skin, and he couldn’t seem to stop touching. Peter’s mouth left his and began tracing a line of kisses down his collar as his hands worked at the catch of Neal’s belt.  
  
“Peter,” Neal breathed.  
  
“Neal.”  
  
His eyes snapped open.  
  
“How do you know my name?”  
  
Both men froze.  
  
“I said Nick.”  
  
“No,” Neal shook his head, “you did not.” His breath was heavy, and his heart was pounding—but not because of the man whose mouth was still hovering above his collarbone. Suddenly the dizzy pace of the evening made perfect sense.  
  
“I… had an ex named Neal,” Peter said, grasping at one last straw.  
  
Neal shoved the other man away and stepped to the side. He could feel the heat of a blush creeping across his face. “You know.”  
  
Peter smiled. “Yes, I know, Agent Caffrey.”  
  
“Why did you do this? You aren’t going to blackmail me. One, I work for the government, so my most valuable assets are a dog and an apartment.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say they’re your most valuable assets.” The compliment was accompanied by a wink.  
  
“Shut up. Two, this was a sting. I’m _supposed_ to wind up in a compromising position with you. Or, well, not you, but either way it was meant to happen.”  
  
Peter grinned. “I’ll say.”  
  
Neal’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “No, you do not flirt with the FBI agent who is about to arrest you.”  
  
“You can’t arrest me.”  
  
“I actually think I can. Better to get the brains of the operation and find his accomplice later.”  
  
It was Burke’s turn to look shocked, although Neal suspected it was another act. “Who said I was the one who made the plans?”  
  


  
  
“They’re called Windsor pearls,” Jones explained, “this set was auctioned off a few years ago for a little over three million. Their value has probably increased a bit since then. They were in the Chase Manhattan Bank’s safe deposit vault two hours ago,” he pointed to a picture on the screen, “and now they’re gone. Security cameras caught the suspect as she was leaving. Actually, it looks like she went out of her way to be seen.”  
  
“How is that?” Diana asked.  
  
“She uh, turned and smiled at the camera. We have an agent there now. He just sent word that the footage positively IDs her as Elizabeth Mitchell, alias Burke.”  
  


  
  
“Here, your pin.” Peter handed the pilfered enamel pin back to Neal. He sauntered over to where his jacket lay draped across a chair and reached into one of the pockets. “Your wallet.”  
  
“Do you strip all of your dates?” Neal asked, regretting the question almost as soon as he said it.  
  
“I try to. If you weren’t so serious I might have had the rest.”  
  
“Hey, no flirting. None of that. I told you about that.”  
  
Peter held a finger up to silence the agent, and carefully fished around in his breast pocket until he produced the earbud. “And this.”  
  
Neal was shocked. “When did you even take that?”  
  
“Sometime between when you started pulling me closer, and when you tried to undress me.”  
  
“I did no such thing.”  
  
Peter frowned. “That’s a vicious lie. Come on, Agent Caffrey, it wasn’t so bad. You would do it again, admit it. In fact we could do it now. No one knows you’re here. We have a good hour or two.” He stepped toward Neal again, that same cunning grin on his face. “Think of how thoroughly you could question me in two hours.”  
  
“I would need to record— No! Stop doing that!”  
  
“Oh well,” Peter sighed. He straightened his tie and shrugged his jacket on. “The invitation is open. But I’ll go for now.” He turned toward the door, leaving Neal to stare at his back as he adjusted his cuffs.  
  
“You’re under arrest.” Neal said, pushing himself away from the wall and reaching into his pocket. Diana had insisted he bring a pair of handcuffs, now he was glad for the advice.  
  
“How do you intend to arrest me?” Peter asked. He dropped a hand into his own pocket and pulled out the cuffs. “I’ll see you again, Agent Caffrey.” His words sounded more like a promise from a lover than a threat from a criminal, but Neal wasn’t sure there was much of a difference in this case.  
  
“Oh, you definitely will,” he called back.


End file.
